50 More Pairs of Boat Shoes: A Tale of Rain, Gains and Exquisite Pain
by Margot Marmot
Summary: Christian and Anastasia have made a new life in the Scottish Highlands, immersing themselves in new hobbies and indulging in old ones.
1. Chapter One: Interval is over

For a few months [or years irl, sorry to my die-hard fans], Anastasia and Christian peacefully coexisted in their castle in the Scottish Highlands in a fluctuating state of tranquillity and violent passion. In the tranquil hours, Anastasia had taken up pottery, while Christian had taken to crafting a variety of items of clothing for Anastasia's cat. In the violent and passionate hours, Anastasia put her new hand skills to good use and Christian released the crippling, pent up frustration that knitting left him with. The results were explosive.

But one fateful day, Christian had made a decision that made it all fall apart. A lifestyle choice that he believed would elevate him from man to more-than-a-man. He had decided to become a vegan. Anastasia knew she could never live without animal products, just as she knew she could never live with a vegan. After all, who can really _live_ with a vegan.

So regrettably they parted. Anastasia remained in the castle and consoled herself by bathing in cheese, knowing that Christian may well never experience cheese again. Christian moved into a tent out the back of an artisan coffee bar in a nearby town, enjoying the familiar nature of life on the street.

* * *

Anastasia had spent the morning cleaning her kiln. She had just completed a series of bespoke glazed aubergines. She had crafted a range of colours, shapes and sizes, so no matter the intended use there was a perfect fit for every occasion.

She sighed and brushed the dust from her thighs as she turned toward the door. Outside, in the inevitable rain, sat Alan, his pointy ears cocooned in a pair of pink woollen ear-socks. Anastasia felt a pang of sorrow and desire as she began to think about the crafty, dextrous hands that had made those ear-socks. She found herself gazing into a puddle as though it were her soul, longing for something to fill her up once more as the rain did for the puddle.

Alan's tail flicked across the glassy surface, disturbing Anastasia's thoughts. Her mind cleared suddenly and she realised that what she really needed was a coffee. With a newfound purpose, she had soon made her way to the kitchen where she discovered, to her dismay, that she had run out of coffee. _Oh no_ , she thought, _these last few months I've been totally absorbed in making ceramic aubergines and have not fully recognised that they were not sufficient to satisfy my body's nutritional needs._

So Anastasia embarked on a coffee odyssey. Little did she know, this journey to seek sustenance would reward her with more than just coffee.

* * *

It had been a busy morning for Christian. He had artfully discharged milk into so many hot beverages that he feared his tank was almost empty. He reached sluggishly into the fridge for a fresh carton, pulled off the lid and poured the glossy, creamy liquid into his jug. Immediately he shrieked in horror. _REAL MILK_ , his inner voice wailed, _my reckless hands have been tainted by the blood of innocent beings_. Sweat beaded on his forehead like the tears of the cow whose milk he had so unwillingly exploited.

Christian did not know what to do, where to look, something had cracked within him. His brain, atrophied by his vegan diet, was unable to cope under the pressure. He tried to put the lid back on the carton but missed. Delicious, gleaming milk sloshed to the floor, spattering his socks and Birkenstocks with the metaphorical life-force of cow. He tried a second time and missed again, this time feeling a splatter on his face. Desperate to end his torment, Christian flung the carton and lid back into the fridge and whimpered as the door closed with a thud.

Christian slumped against the fridge panting, paralysed with guilt and self-loathing. He hated that he was forced to work alongside flesh-eating barbarians to cater for patrons who craved the juices of cruelty.

He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, thinking of soy and almond and coconut and quinoa. Gradually he was engulfed once more by vegan tranquillity.

The coffee shop bustled around him. Milk gurgled, coffee percolated, cake crumbled. The harmonious coffee shop ecosystem cycled on. Orders jumbled, small change fumbled, baked goods bundled. Christian returned to his post, spouting milk into coffees once more.

* * *

Anastasia contemplated her coffee order as she journeyed into town.

 _I could have normal milk_ , she considered, _but maybe it's time for me to have my coffee bean fertilised by a different kind of milk. I could try almond milk, I could try coconut milk, I could try soy milk, maybe hemp milk or oat milk, I even heard they do quinoa milk now. I've heard coconut milk produces quite an impressive froth,_ she paused, _but it does seem like most people dip their first dairy free toes into soy milk. After all, I do like soy sauce. How different could it be?_

It had been a long while since she had last left the castle and she was relieved to see the outside world was still there. Fields, fed by the perpetual rain, indeed continued beyond the fence. As did the road as she continued to follow it towards the little clutch of buildings nestled beneath the mountains. And so, she hoped, did the coffee shop.

* * *

Christian heard the rain outside crescendo and decrescendo as someone opened and closed the door. He heard the person approach the counter. Even over the noise of the coffee shop he could hear the person breathing.

Then he heard the voice.

'One soy latte, please.'

At the sound of the vegan order Christian's ears pricked up, another organ soon followed suit. Even though he found all vegan orders arousing, there was something different about this one. It was so bland yet taunted him with a whiff of fervour he had not felt in some time. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, anxiously willing him to turn and ease the tension that was beginning to build up in his body.

Christian could hear his co-worker putting the order into the till. 'What's the name with that one?'

'Anastasia.' Said the voice.

Christian's body throbbed. He felt his heartbeat in his eyes as it drove libidinous blood around his quivering body. _Soy_ , he thought. _Latte_ , he continued. _Anastasia_ , he almost moaned it aloud. He could not believe the day had come. Anastasia, life-long cheese-devotee, had ordered a _vegan_ coffee.

Unable to contain his yearning, Christian turned to face her.

'It would be my pleasure to put the soy in your latte.'

Their eyes met. It would have been love at first sight had it been the first time they'd met and had love been the principle emotion. But it wasn't. Christian was paralysed with longing, his blood shunted from his peripheries to more vital organs, or _organ_. Her eyes glinted back at him, like two giant chia seeds on top of a dairy-free super-food smoothie bowl. _I really want to free her dairy_ , he thought to himself, too wired to realise that didn't make any sense.

Christian felt soy milk splash down his legs as the jug he was holding fell from his hands but he was already moving. The counter between them was a physical embodiment of the dietary wedge that had driven them apart, only this time there was a way around it. The back door. He had wanted to take Anastasia through the back door ever since he started working in the coffee shop. Heart broken, he had waited and waited for her to come, knowing that her cheese-loving soul was no-longer his. Until now.

He could see in Anastasia's eyes how much she needed him to take her through the back door. So that is what he did.

Christian skirted the counter at a speed that would have rendered the children who teased him on school sports days for being a frail little ginger awestruck. Each step brought him closer to his goal. Each step took him closer to her. As he saw her in front of him time began to slow down and the floor between them seemed to stretch but it was no match for Christian.

Their bodies slammed together with a force that could be matched by nothing known to man. The touch of Anastasia's skin sent thrilling waves of electricity through Christian's body. His hands did not know where to start, they slid ravenously from her neck to her waist and beyond, but in his head everything just kept leading back to the same thing. The back door.

Momentarily able to control himself, Christian turned Anastasia so she was facing away from him. He pressed himself against her, propelling her forward. With a moan, she reached behind her and clutched his hips so hard her knuckles turned white. He pushed harder, moving her faster and faster until finally he took her through the back door.

They found themselves in the courtyard out the back of the coffee shop and before their eyes stood a structure that beckoned them to enter.

Christian's tent.


	2. Chapter Two: Making up for lost time

Defying all laws of physics, the flimsy walls of the tent withstood the explosion of lust.

Fortunately, as a way of enhancing his proximity to nature, Christian had not zipped up his tent. Their bodies tumbled inside, onto the soft bed of moss on which Christian slept. The moistness of the lichen tickled Anastasia's senses, stimulating every element of her being, and one in particular.

Christian tore Anastasia's clothes from her, the ensuing arousal was doused only by the thought of how wasteful it was to ruin items that nature had been destroyed to make. He greeted her body as though it were twenty-two dollar smashed avocado with a side of matcha chai spiced soy latte. He so desperately wanted to consume her, let her body seep into every one of his pores. He clenched her waist between his hands and wrenched her beneath him. Revelling in the ferocity that he had not acted on since achieving herbivorous salvation.

No longer able to contain his violent desire, Christian sank his teeth into the first bit of Anastasia's flesh that he could capture, only to find that in his frenzied state he had in fact bitten down on his own arm. Despite this, the act still sent a thrilling wave of energy throughout his body, fuelling him further.

Anastasia quaked with yearning, letting Christian take full control of her. She had forgotten just how much she cherished handing over unconditional control of her body. She had forgotten how overwhelmingly sublime it felt to have Christian dictate her every move.

Having him take her through the back door was the most amazing thing to have happened to her for as long as she could remember. Amongst the cloud of primitive impulsion, all she could think of was returning the favour.

* * *

Anastasia felt the warmth radiating against her face as her lips gently touched the rim. She felt Christian's body rigidify in anticipation. A strong smell wafted into her nostrils, salty but sweet, and with just a whiff of rot. The brown contents beckoned to her as she let her tongue dip inside. Christian trembled. Anastasia felt the vibrations passing through his body.

'Go on,' Christian breathed, 'put it in.'

She let her lips part further, tilted her wrist back, and let the hot liquid enter her throat. Immediately she spat it back out. It tasted just how you would imagine all the bad things in the world would taste if mixed together into one cup of unpalatable mire. Her mouth was left with the taste of war and world famine mixed with a hint of Donald Trump's shrunken testicles. Soy milk was definitely not for her.

Christian watched her with a look of intractable sorrow. How could someone not like soy milk. It was the pinnacle of everything worthwhile about veganism. It was where all vegans began their journey to deliverance. A rite of passage. An absolute criterion. And she had failed.

Setting the cup down apprehensively, Anastasia met Christian's gaze. 'I'm so sorry,' she said. 'I thought that maybe after all this time I could do it. Become a vegan for you.'

He turned away, knowing that only pain could come from what she was about to say.

'Veganism is not worth giving up happiness for. Even if it means it would bring you back to me,' her blunt resolve cut into his soul. 'I just can't do that to myself.'

Christian had not felt such agony since he had been given a pair of mainstream Nike shoes by his father as a child. To have Anastasia leave him again would tear him apart, he could not bear to continue his life without her in it. But at the same time he could not imagine returning to cruelty-fuelled life he had renounced.

With a heavy heart, Anastasia turned away. She felt gravity of Christian's desire begin to fade as his inner turmoil broke him. Slowly, she walked away. She could still feel his gaze calling to her, screaming that maybe she could try almond milk, maybe that would be better. But she ignored it. This was one thing she simply could not compromise on.

* * *

It rained all the way back to the castle. Anastasia felt as though she was being drenched in Christian's tears. The feeling of being covered in Christian's bodily fluids was the only comfort in her mind. Even the thought of the cheese waiting for her at her destination failed to console her.

When she reached the grand entrance, something was wrong. Alan was not manning his post beside the immense oak doors. _Where is he?_ Anastasia wondered. _He is always waiting to greet me._

She scanned the area but saw only a number of aubergines arranged sporadically around the courtyard. But there was no sign of Alan. Anastasia went inside and made her way to the kitchen. _That is where I saw him last, maybe I accidentally locked him in,_ she thought, using up her last glimmer of hope.

She opened the door and sure enough there he was. He lay, motionless, on the kitchen bench. Something was in his mouth. Something green and leafy. As she moved closer it became more and more evident that Alan was not breathing and that the green leafy entity was lodged in his throat.

'ALAN!' Anastasia cried, tears beginning to sting her eyes. She moved nearer, peering closer at what was in his mouth. 'No! No it can't be!'

It was kale.


	3. Chapter Three: A cheesy reunion

CHAPTER THREE – A cheesy reunion

Anastasia wandered forlornly through the corridors of the castle, blind but for two small slits of exposed eyeball nestled between puffy red lids. Her soul was so cold and empty that even the ceaseless stone walls seemed warm in comparison. But not as warm as the heart of the cat she so sorely missed.

Accompanied only by the light of a small candle, Anastasia turned and weaved through rooms she had never seen before. Her travels seemed as endless as they were aimless. She began to realise that an entire castle for the dwelling of two people, let alone one, was simply excessive.

Anastasia soon came across a room full of dark shapes that coaxed her inside. The candlelight revealed a myriad of motionless animals. A macabre exhibition of immaculate taxidermy. Mesmerised, she paced between the cabinets, marvelling at the authenticity of the creations. An endless array of birds, moose, boar, reindeer, even household pets that in their afterlife maintained their looks of utter admiration for their masters.

Then came Anastasia's marvellous idea. _Following this example_ _Alan too can be immortalised_ , she envisioned, _if only I knew of a taxidermist nearby_.

At that moment she noticed a business card nestled amongst the feathers of a tawny owl.

'Desmond MacFillskinner, Highland Taxidermist, 0141 620 4387,' it read.

Anastasia dashed back through the convoluted corridors in search of a phone. Nestled in a corner of the entrance hall she came across a dusty, ancient device that appeared to be capable of telecommunication. She dialled the number and was relieved to hear it begin to ring.

''Ello?' The answer came from a voice that sounded as antique as the phone through which it was procured.

After confirming the identity of the receiver, Anastasia explained her desires with such finesse that the voice appeared to be on the brink of arousal. The voice, however, belonged to the ninety-seven-year-old taxidermist, which unfortunately excluded him from Anastasia's pool of potential derivations of intimacy.

The deed Desmond was fortunately still able to perform for her was stuff her beloved cat.

As the days passed, Anastasia began to realise that life with stuffed Alan was not dissimilar to life with living Alan. He watched her silently as she sculpted aubergine after aubergine. He showed absolutely no affection when approached. He never showed the slightest bit of gratitude when she fed him. Although she did often wonder why she still bothered to feed him because it just meant that she had to move his body to and from his food bowl on occasion.

This particular afternoon Anastasia was in her pottery studio, expertly moulding the supple clay with her deft hands. She was composing a particularly large aubergine to add to her collection. Her hands moved along the clay, up and down, up and down, up and down…

 _Anastasia could smell the soft earthy smell of clay and felt the gentle surface evolve as her hands guided it. She sensed the aubergine becoming more and more engorged as she handled it further. She was enjoying the pleasure the object was providing her so much that she was almost unaware of its transformation from earth to flesh. The warm, pulsatile nature of the article in her grasp gradually crescendoed until Anastasia felt the veiny surface erupt into her imagination._

With her eyes still closed, Anastasia's textile fantasy continued until her state of stimulation caused her to falter, allowing her foot to fall from the peddle. The legume's orbicular motion ceased, along with Anastasia's mirage.

It was times like these that Anastasia was particularly aware that there was something immeasurable missing from her life. She knew that her particular needs could only be accomplished by the elite of the world of indecent intimacy. She also knew that only one particular member of this population could fully appease the demons that raged longingly within her. And further, she knew that she could not continue much longer without relieving her craving.

Anastasia woke to the sound of oddly rhythmic claps of thunder. She turned to her open window but saw, amongst the pitch darkness, no trace of a storm. The cannonade continued until she realised it was someone knocking on the door. Intrigued, Anastasia arose from her queenly four-poster bed and crept down stairs.

As Anastasia neared the door she peered through the peephole only to see a dark silhouette backed by inevitable drizzle. She heaved the doors apart, revealing the sodden figure of a man. His clothes clung to him with a certain desperation that also infiltrated his gaze. Ginger hair fell despairingly from his man-bun, crossing his face and complimenting the redness of his tear-stained eyes.

'Christian,' Anastasia began.

'No, just wait.' Christian whispered, stepping towards her.

As his body came into the light Anastasia became aware that his clothes were not ordinary clothes. In fact, they were not clothes at all. Christian's body was covered in cheese.

Did this mean that Christian had resigned from his vegan crusade?

Anastasia gasped as a feeling beyond the realms of hunger engulfed her. She stumbled backwards, unable to maintain composure. Effortlessly, Christian caught her, manoeuvring her body against his pasteurised integument.

Anastasia was naked so swiftly that Christian was left unsure as to whether Anastasia had been clothed in the first place. He felt her teeth graze his shoulder with a sense of urgency as she began to ravenously devour his cheesy crust.

 _If having my skin eaten off me feels this incredible perhaps animals don't mind so much after all,_ Christian thought. _Of course they mind_ , Christian shook his head vehemently, _even a non-vegan would know that_.

In his elation, Christian's consciousness began to blur. Anastasia had reached his hip bones and his cheese upper garment was nearing its end. Every now and then her teeth would catch his real skin, sending shockwaves directly to the dorsal horn of his spinal cord.

Anastasia tore the final shred of cheese from his abdomen and Christian's body rigidified. He desperately did not want her to stop and to his delight she immediately moved on to his trousers. She knelt on the floor and began to eat from the bottom up. The higher she got the more rigid Christian's body became. Understandably, she was beginning to slow down. She had consumed an immense volume of melted dairy product and was ready for a detox intermission.

Still Anastasia was getting higher and Christian, almost overcome by anticipation, was engrossed in a tumultuous inner battle to remain still.

Suddenly Anastasia stopped. Christian sucked air through gritted teeth, barely able to contain himself. Little did he know, it was not satiety that had halted Anastasia's venture.

'No, no I won't do this to myself again.' She panted. 'I cannot simply welcome a vegan back into my life. Not even for this.'

'I know, Anastasia.' Christian's eyes were blood shot from a mixture of emotion and seminal retention. 'That's why I'm here. Even though veganism is my passion, I cannot truly devote myself to anything if that thing is not you.'

Anastasia was shaking her head. 'It's been months, Christian. You tried to force veganism on me even though you knew how much cheese meant to me so I let you go.'

'It's true, I care deeply about the safety and comfort of animals and wish them true peace in this cruel world but that feeling does not compare to what you can give me.' Christian was on the brink of tears. 'That is why I have decided that I will be a vegan only on Mondays and Wednesdays, and for the rest of the time I will dedicate myself to learning to tolerate the usage of dairy products once more. I will never force my dietary restrictions on you again.'

Anastasia was torn. She knew that no vegan could truly live without proclaiming vegan propaganda, without sermonising the commands of the vegan gods. She knew that being a vegan two days a week was still two days a week of lunacy and masochism. She could not bear him causing himself pain when all she could think of was the tender brutality she wished he would unleash upon her.

Anastasia knew that saying no to Christian again would cause her more agony than anything else.

Christian saw the decision in Anastasia's eyes before she had time to find the words.

Anastasia tore the remaining cheese from Christian's body, unleashing the tempestuous contents without even thinking to eat the cheese. She needed the space inside her body for something much more valuable to her. Christian well and truly obliged.

Bodies bruised by the stone floor, Christian and Anastasia lay, clothed by nothing but the shreds of their fractured resolves. Their chests rose and fell, the only muscles still able to move were those essential to the prolongation of life. The sound of their breathing dissipated throughout the entrance hall, the only sound in the room. They needn't speak, for everything that could be said had been translated into their unique physical language.

Christian felt as though his body was melting through the cracks in the stone floor. Everything that held his body together had been released upon Anastasia. Christian's body was empty, but his essence was brimming with completeness.

Christian opened his eyes and, in the corner of the room, caught Alan's lifeless gaze. His brown eyes were glazed over and his motionless body appeared ready to pounce. _He looks as though he's seen a ghost_ , Christian thought, _or maybe he's just really hungry_.

Alan in fact _had_ seen a ghost. His own ghost.


End file.
